


welcome home

by verandaliving



Category: Fruits Basket, Fruits Basket (Anime 2019), Fruits Basket - Takaya Natsuki (Manga)
Genre: AU, F/M, Genderswap, angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:41:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26636755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verandaliving/pseuds/verandaliving
Summary: genderswap au where shigure is a girl and akito is a boy, forced by his father to live as a girl. just as messed up.akito - akitosuguha - shigurekaren - kureno
Relationships: Sohma Akito/Sohma Shigure
Kudos: 6





	welcome home

Akito was slipping, it was plain for anyone to see.

Suguha glanced at him crumpled on the tatami mat, pale and writhing, the fabric kimono looking heavy and crushing on his frail body, a cucoon. The thin rice paper windows above were a milky white, the rest of the room blueish and shadow cast with the cloak of night. 

The incriminatingly thin walls of the Sohma residence meant you had to adapt to that microscopic privacy, lower your voice when you were in its halls and rooms to avoid gossip, to avoid fuss. Reputation had followed Sugaha from when she was a little girl, of course. 'The problem child' had been garnered for her from the gossip of maids, from all the noise Suguha made in every aspect of her life. And she didn't care. She always liked the orchestra of it all. In that way she was suited to the wild Akito with his hysteria and violence, drilling his acidic words into every corner of the fated estate.

She could be quiet when she wanted to, suprisingly.

The room had the atmosphere of a hospital waiting room - cold, empty air, the bare pale facility, waiting for your name to be called. Home, it seemed, had always been like this. The house felt depersonalised to her, a hotel that had a million guests and so kept its decor to the most commercially attractive and yet stagnant and dated, empty like no one lived there at all. What's worse is that she would always crawl right back to these gates, to these rooms. To him. 

What had happened to Akito, the poisoning of God as they stood on that filthy mortal soil with their small feet, was a gradual process. No child is born wicked. But it can learn. Those wide dark eyes that once looked up at Suguha like she was the most amazing person in the world had turned sharp, bruised and cat-like. The testosterone bubbled in him as he reached his teenagehood - compressed by dresses and false airs, his father, his curated identity stifling any part of his masculinity. All boys peppered themselves into the molds of men, men populating workplaces and wedding photos, shifting into the world. 

Akito hadn't passed into manhood at all.

"Why did you fuck that man, Suguha?"

He must be half asleep with his drowsy, weak voice. It is almost insecure, quiet coming from him. The air is chilly on her bare shoulder, her kimono slipping down. 

Everytime he mentions the act, the act becomes clearer in her mind. It gathers more meaning, more weight. She remembers that, ah, yes, she did in fact do that thing that he so speaks of. Not pride, but an astounding realisation of what she is capable of against him, against anyone. Maybe she had just came to the conclusion that that was simply the wicked kind of woman she was. When you had that much unification over every part of yourself, when you knew yourself to the scale that she was concious to, it feels easier not to feel guilt.

The silly thing is that the answer is so simple. Unfortunately, Simple things aren't simple when you are Akito.

Sugaha gives a sigh, holds in a sneer, and shifts closer to the pale man on the floor. Akito's beady eyes quickly scorch up into her own, his shaggy black hair framing his face. With effort, he heaves himself up. A determined glare sets itself on his face. She laughs then, a dull laugh conjured from her dry throat - It's not that funny, and she is not really trying anymore.

"You never please me," he mutters. He rises, and Suguha is smiling. A hand clamps down on her hair, pulling tightly as his eyes bore down into hers, chin jutting out in fury. She gives way when he shoves her to the ground, the air catching in her throat as her back makes impact with the mat. He is red hot and eager, practically frothing at the mouth as he is above her. She wonders if he leaped onto Karen like this, whether Karen let him treat her like this. Knowing her, she would. She was always the people pleaser.

"How many times do I need to tell you until it sinks in, Akito?" she asks, smoothly. His hand wrenching her hair is making her scalp burn. If she could sit there and list every reason for why she did what she did, every intermost feeling she had for that man, she would sit there and recite it until the sun rose in the sky. She doesn't.

He looks so beautiful, she thinks to herself. This is something that she is always somehow thinking. Desire fills her immediately, warm and making her limbs feel lighter. Her knee bends up to his crotch, and the hold over her hair weakens. They kiss, and it is electric and wet and quick. Hands snake down to her loose kimono, practically ripping it off.

When it is all over, when they are lying there with their limbs tangled together and their hair mussed, something simple is shared between them.

Not any words, or particular expression, but a mutual agreement. 

I like doing this with you. I will come to this room so that I can do it with you. I want to care for you and I want to love you but I don't know how to properly do that, so let's have sex.

Something along those lines, she thinks as she buries herself into his chest.


End file.
